The Uncoupling
by wordslingers
Summary: AU - slash, het, etc. Alone you are mighty.. together are legends. A new team is needed to face the danger. Meet.. Team Marvel. A dangerous new mutant is discovered but Wolverine and the other X-Men are unsure who is controlling the boy's actions.
1. unas

Authors notes:

Right, I am taking a lot of creative liberties here. This is mostly alternative universe (AU) and I am tweaking a lot of things to my liking. As usual, Marvel and X-men and blah blah and copywrite to their creators. Straight and gay relationships will be a feature of this story. You will probably see some familiar faces that I have taken and recreated a little. (Here's looking at you Hellion, Surge and Anole.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and constructive (or destructive) criticism is always welcome.

Currently the story is very much at bare bones status and I know there's a lot of holes in this but if I don't start somewhere, I never will. Enjoy.

-

Logan could sense something wrong. No, not sense ... Smell.

And it smelt like blue, which was, of course, death. Logan couldn't explain this, and probably wouldn't try even if you asked him, but it was true. Death smelt blue. And on this hot, summer's day, the only blue Logan should have sensed was the blue in the sky. But still ...

Death. Logan's nose twitched, his bushy eyebrows furrowing into a knitted frown as he surveyed the crowd in front of him and his fellow X-men. The X-men were raised on a podium receiving some sort of city award for, what, good behavior? "Thank you, freaks, for not destroying our city completely, take this shiny medal." Whatever it was, Logan did not approve nor want the city's fearful excuses. Here! Take this medal so we feel better about ourselves! We're not REALLY segregating the majority of the city's schools from you! We don't REALLY think you're the anti-Christ! Melodramatic? A little. Bitter? Completely. But true? Well... Logan thought so. But, of course, Logan's thoughts weren't really taken into consideration when your leader – currently for far too long, in Logan's opinion – was the Golden Boy Scott Summers. Now, Cyclops (Cyke to his enemies.. Or Logan) was a good leader, in all honesty. He had a head for tactics, he was loyal to his friends and was completely devoid of personality; there were no distractions whatsoever. Personally, Logan didn't have any idea what the vivacious, interesting, funny, charming, alluring ... and sexy Jean Grey saw in the man, but either way, they were hitched up and knocked up and whatever else up. Of course, Logan was way, way over that little speed bump. He hardly ever thought of what he'd like to do to Jean, pregnant or not. Especially not when -

Blue.

Logan sniffed again, frowned harder, and cast a hard eye over his teammates, his train of thought changing with the speed of a lightning bolt. Not all of the X-men were there. There was himself, Professor Xavier, of course (who was currently having a warm conversation with Senator Kelly who was handing out the charity medals), Storm, Jean, Scott with Nightcrawler and Hank close by, huddled in the Blackbird aircraft monitoring the entire meeting. And then, spread out in front of them in a wide arc, was a bunch of screaming Americans, some waving STOP THE H8, LET MUTANTS PROCR8 flags, some wearing Spiderman hats and Fantastic 4 tops and one person, fortunately in the back row, wearing a full body Beast costume. Logan hoped to God that Hank could see that through the Blackbird cameras. And, behind the blue costumed freak (as if Logan had the right to call people that, really) was a tall, commanding man with a firm hand on his (son's?) companion's shoulder. A feral snarl rose up in Logan's throat, but he bit it down, not wanting to panic anybody.  
The two people there, that was where the smell was coming off. Reeking. Stinking.  
"Jean?" Wolverine whispered, or growled quietly. Jean turned to him and tapped her temple quickly, a patriotic grin smoothing her face.  
What is it, Logan?" Jean asked him telepathically, her manner not faltering once. The other X-men, aside from Xavier, stiffened slightly. She was broadcasting to all of them. Smart move.  
Somethin'... I think, maybe nothin' Wolverine sent back, and then looked towards the two people in the far reaches of the crowd. Logan's eyesight was the best in the group by a long shot, but Wolverine tried as best he could to convey the mental picture to Jean, who he assumed would show the rest. Can ya get a readin' on him darlin'?

Logan didn't have time to register the vaguely annoyed raise of Scott's eyebrows as the response was almost instantaneous.  
Nngh, no, I c-can't. Something's blocking me out...  
Logan hunched his shoulders, growled audibly and stared out across the crowd again. Something was wrong, it was almost an electric current in the air now. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to attack them here? It was like asking to have your ass kicked, roasted and handed to you. But, Logan supposed, people were pretty damn stupid if you left them to their own devices. But here? Really? With two of the most powerful telepaths on the planet? Unlikely...

Logan was watched the two people now with a steely eye, every movement they made, every breath.

The older man placed his hand on the back of the boy's neck, seemed to push with something.. and even from where he was standing, Logan could see the boy's eyes widen to almost unimaginable widths .. and then the smell, the sense, of that blue death hit Logan so hard he was almost rocked off his feet. Something passed over him like a cold shadow, some force that rattled his bones and caused his flesh to creep all the way around his body. He shuddered, bit his lip and closed his eyes. It was over in seconds, but as he opened them and cast a glance over the rest of the X-men, his mouth tightened into a hard line. The force, whatever it was, was vaguely visible, like a shimmering in the air. And as it passed over his friends – his family maybe – it was as if someone had made copies of them, he saw images of them, transparent, real images of them twist themselves from the body of the real x-men and disappear. As if this was a cheap movie and someone had doubled the person in the same place, lowered the transparency and began messing around with the alignment. That sense of death, blue, was more extreme now than ever before.  
Logan knew he had made a grave mistake .. should've trusted his instincts when he had the chance.

The man pushed the boy forwards, Logan barely noticed this because his eyes were locked with the boy's. And what colour were they?  
Blue. Of course. And they were dripping with power, light, energy.. sparks flew from his eyes like a firework, blazing blue pools of energy.  
"GET DOWN!" Logan bellowed, his adamantium claws unsheathing from his knuckles with a SCHNKT sound, but people could barely hear him over the din the crowd was making. The other X-men looked confused, puzzled .. not enough time, need to move...  
"NOW!" Logan saw as the fire in the boy's eyes seemed to change, grow more fierce and then dim. And then, and Logan would later swear he saw this, Scott's face seemed to grow out of the boy's, visor and all, and look directly at Logan. It was the same, cheap, awful movie magic as earlier, the transparent image of his (sort of) friend directly over that boy's face... and then the ghost of Scott's visor began to pulse a threatening red. What seemed to take ages to happen took only a few seconds, but the track of time around them seemed to be disrupted. The boy, with his ghost power hijacking, let out a shrill scream that nobody but Logan heard above the crowd, and then with his head (and Scott's head) raised high, sent a wide arc of ruby red optical beam streaming into the sky. It took people several moments to realise the danger they were in.  
And by then it was too late.

The boy, still screaming, seemed to spasm, the man behind him pushing something against his neck again. The optical beam swung downwards so the boy was aiming at the floor in front of him, the beam plowed forwards and destroyed everything in a ten metre radius in seconds. Now people were really screaming. Logan watched, powerless, as the beam cut through a dozen people before focusing right on -  
"PROFESSER!" And Logan didn't know if he was screaming or shouting or even thinking. There was no time to react, no time to process... The beam surged forward, and dimly through a red haze, Logan saw a man leap forwards and tackle the Professor from his wheelchair. The beam missed it's target, but didn't stop. The boy's eyes were still wide open. Scott was powerless now, hugging the Professor's body tight to him as he tried to sink into the ground. The beam swung around again, catching Storm in mid flight as she tried to gain some ground, some perspective .. Logan thought he screamed her name but she fell from the sky regardless, a white shape in a red background. Jean screamed and clutched her swollen belly. The boy screamed. Logan screamed and was now pushing through the crowd, who was now, absurdly late, scattering in all directions. His claws were out.

The beam stopped, the boy had dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and even through the now sparse crowd, could see them blistering beneath the stolen power. The man behind him, and Logan could now see him smiling but angry, pushed against the boy's neck again, turned and fled. The boy, that goddamn boy, began to scream again. Logan was ten feet away from him, five now, when he saw Storm's body inside the boy's own, a transparent mess of white hair and electricity.

"NO!" Wolverine bellowed, and made his second mistake. He misjudged, leaped and missed his target, landing on the floor beneath the boy as he rose, graceless, into the air. The screams around him stopped as a few stupid, suicidal people watched the boy's ascension. Lightning poured off of him like drops of water, one bolt striking a man into dust, another ricocheting into a nearby building and exploding into flames. Logan could see Storm, the Ghost Storm, inside the boy's body, screaming in... ecstasy?  
JEAN! GET THE KID DOWN NOW! But Jean was not responding, and as Logan turned towards her, he could see she was pulling Scott to his feet, trying to check on the perhaps injured Professor; a lightning bolt from the boy exploded towards the group. Logan stared helplessly but the jolt hit an invisible force and exploded into fireworks around Jean's telekinetic shield. She faltered, swayed, and fell into Scott's awaiting, trembling arms.

Logan pulled himself to his feet, tried to jump and catch the boy's dangling, sparking feet but missed by inches, breaths. The boy screamed again, a piercing sound that made Logan's balls almost retreat into his body, and the air around him pulsed with thunder. Logan was knocked to his feet again.  
And then the air stopped thrumming with that weather power. The boy began to fall and as Logan raised his claws to (what, Logan, you gonna stab the kid? That what you gonna do?) stop the boy, he saw a familiar but unexpected face.  
(Colossus?!)

The boy's skin melted into metal as he hit the floor with a terrible crack, and from the dust that followed, stood the swaying attacker, the steel skin vanished.

"Bad day for you bub," Logan muttered quietly, gliding along the floor towards the figure, claws out, ready to strike -  
"PLEASE GOD NO MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP," the boy bellowed, screamed, roared as Logan got close and the Wolverine actually stopped, his claws held out stupidly in front of himself. He faltered, almost tripped, and looked upon the boy. Blood covered his body, streaming from his ears, his mouth... his eyes?! He took a lurching step towards Logan before falling to the floor. Logan didn't move a muscle, his eyes wide. He felt Jean and Xavier in his head, asking him what was wrong, telling him what to do.. but he couldn't move.

The boy's eyes. Bleeding. Those blue eyes, bleeding. That POWER, bleeding!  
The boy rose his head, stared at Logan.  
"Run, you fool. It's a trap." And then he exploded.


	2. duo

Logan had seen a lot of shit in his day but this was one of the strangest.. The boy's eyes, blood and all, blazed that awful light and then Logan saw a face he didn't recognise, a grown man's face, and then the energy that had been swarming the boy like flies exploded before his face. There was a roaring explosion as Logan was thrown – hurled – backwards. JEAN!!!!!!! he tried to think but there was no time for thinking again. No time for thoughts or memories or feelings just fire and burning. It was the end.  
But, of course, it wasn't. For Logan, death was almost never a relief. He burnt, he healed, he went on. Unconsciousness on the other hand...

Darkness swallowed him, and Logan let it. Hello darkness, my old friend.

Some time after - but what was time when the world has just exploded? - Logan rose to his feet, his burnt flesh had already begun to heal whilst he was blacked out; It was a good pain now, the healing kind where everything feels better. He would be okay but -  
What about the others?! They must have been hit! Please no -

Logan turned, spun around and stared through the smoke. Trying to find them. Hoping to find them, fucking praying to find them. And... no, he could only see broken figures, marionettes with no string... but then they rose.

It was Jean he picked out first, surrounded in flames of her own, Phoenix flames. They diminished as she dropped her arms, swayed again but managed to steady herself, placing that protective hand over her belly and baby. The others were around here, Nightcrawler appearing in smoke of his own, grabbing the Professor and then vanishing again. Seconds passed and the same happened with Scott and an unconscious Storm.  
Logan, we have to leave now. We don't want to be ... Can't be connected with this.

Logan nodded through the gloom at Jean, his skin itching and cold. Think it's a bit too late for that, darlin'. You go, make sure the others are safe. I'll stay 'ere, I can handle myself.  
Moments passed. She seemed to be considering, or conferring with the Professor. But then..  
Yes. Okay, make sure you're out of sight before the police get here. We.. You can't afford to get caught.

Logan nodded, realised Jean couldn't see him, and sent back a telepathic affirmative. He watched as the elf appeared, grabbed her, and disappeared again. Dimly, he could hear the sounds of a high tech x-man plane lifting off.  
Around him, the environment was decimated. The air was thick and heavy, smog and ashes. The building that had caught fire had thankfully run out of it's own power, and there were no corpses... Logan shuddered. Lightning and optic beams made good incendiary weapons. The people were dust.

"Shit," Logan muttered, taking a step forwards. In front of him were piles of empty clothes and a gravelly, sandy residue. Everything smelt like burnt skin and shit.  
"Uuuunf," something said behind him. Logan propelled himself round, claws out and braced himself, he recognised that smell. The smoke had cleared enough now, and lying on the floor was...

The boy. The blue.

Logan was in front of him before he could register moving, and had lifted the boy into the air with one hand (a de-clawed hand) and stared at him.  
"You picked the wrong fuckin' day to attack the X-men, bub."

The boy looked down at him with those blue eyes, there was no power in them now. Only dried blood. "Go on," he whispered and his voice was dry sandpaper. "Kill me, go on, do it."

Logan raised his other hand, the tip of his claw glinting in the afternoon sunlight. "Go on, please, just kill me. It hurts so bad," the boy was mumbled, tears racking dirty lines down his face. Logan was speechless, frozen again. His claws wavered. The murderous rage, if he felt it at all, was bubbling in his stomach, in his heart. He saw Jean's face then, not in his mind but on the boy's face. "I almost killed her, didn't I? Almost killed that -" Logan saw the boy's face twist into a grimace, pained - "red headed bitch, didn't I?" Logan's hand tightened on the boy's neck... cords popping like rope .. and then he dropped the boy to the floor.

The boy slumped over into a collapsed fetal position, eyes wide and wet.

"Kill me, please. Kill me. I don't wanna hurt no more, daddy," the boy whispered. Logan raised his eyebrows, followed the boy's eye and stared at the sky for a few moments before remembering something. He knelt down, and gently than anyone might have guessed, cupped the back of the boy's head and turned it. The boy seemed to tense up – maybe thinking he was about to have his neck snapped – and Logan was sickened that he heard no protests at that. On the back of the boy's neck, right in the centre, was a shallow hole of about three centimeters diameter.

"I knew it," Logan whispered, but the boy didn't react. He had passed out. For a second, Logan worried about the boy's injuries, but on closer inspection, the blood covering the boy's face was stagnant. Whatever had caused it had stopped; there were no visible injuries. The boy muttered something in his unconscious state (something that sounded like 'it's my birthday go away') and Logan felt something his chest thump, like a dead drum. He stared, puzzled, at the boy for a long time. The wail of sirens was drawing near, and in another moment of gentleness – and making his third mistake – he scooped the boy into his arms.

Beneath his finger tips, Logan could feel the beating of numerous hearts inside the boy's body. Numerous minds, even. He saw when he glanced down Jean Grey, Scott Summers... himself. Logan shook his head, scowled, and began to run.


	3. tres

They had traveled maybe seven miles when the boy began to stir in his arms. Logan's ripped and charred shirt, the result of the boy's failed self destruction, had now been covered in smears of blood from the boy's face. Over the course of their travel, which really wasn't far at all when you were a feral mutant with a vendetta, the boy had pressed his face deeply against Logan's chest and began screaming. Logan was not surprised. The mark on the back of his neck, that awful shallow hole, was a familiar reminder about the horrors of the Weapon X project. The very same mark on the back of Logan's own neck tingled as he thought about it. But this blatant attack on the Professor was not the work of William Stryker, the former head of the Weapon X project that had grafted adamantium to his bones. This was too loud, too brash, for his style. And the man, who Logan assumed was the boy's father,  
(I don't wanna hurt no more daddy)

what was his involvement? Logan could see him in his mind's eye, pressing something against the boy's neck. Was that the serum? The one that could take over your very mind? It must have been.. What else could it be? Logan looked down at the boy in his arms who had stopped screaming. The boy was staring at him with wide survivor eyes.

"Shit," Logan muttered and then, extremely gracefully and very un-Wolverine like, stumbled over his own feet. The boy tumbled from his windmilling arms as he managed to right himself and Logan let out a long stream of curse words. The boy was huddled up on the floor, still staring at Logan with those awful blue eyes.

"Who you?" The boy muttered as Logan pulled himself up with a grunt, scowling back at those strange, unblinking eyes.

"'m the guy who just saved your ass from the goddamn X-men," Logan growled at him, striding over and pulling the boy up by his arms, he was thanked by a yelp. "Who you decided to attack in the middle of a city."

The boy blinked, pulled himself out of Logan's grasp and stared blankly at him. "W-What? What are you talking about? Why are you lying to me?!" The boy was now holding his head in his hands and Logan could feel that familiar thrumming of power, the air seemed to grow heavier. Electrical.

''m not lying kid, but if it makes you feel better..." Logan began, eyebrows knitting into that sharp V of annoyance again. Although he had no doubt he could survive whatever the kid could throw at him, he was in no hurry to find out. "Look .. what's yer name?"

It took the boy several moments to calm down, and as he did, the charge in the air began to quieten down. Logan could still feel it in his metal bones, but it didn't look like he was going to be exploding at that moment in time.  
"My name is .. My name is..." The boy hesitated, screwed up his brow and looking momentarily stunned. "J-Joshua? My name is Joshua?" He answered as if he had been asked a trick math question.

Logan nodded, hesitated, and then stepped forwards to the boy. They were stood together which what might have been considered a friendly distance, yeah, friends. Buddies, amigos, comrades.  
"Well.. Joshua? Joshua. Do you think you can come with me?" Logan faltered again as the electrical thrumming returned instantly, and dimly he could remember the projected images of his friends on the boy's face. He continued anyway. "Just, calm down, kid, calm down. To a safe place. Have you.. have you heard of the X-men?"  
The boy, who now looked horribly tired and weary, nodded mutely and took a small step towards Logan. That was a start.  
"Then will you come with me?" Really, it wasn't an offer. Logan would take the boy if he had to, and on some subconscious level, he knew he had to. He was about to start up his argument for, but the boy nodded again, and then with some trepidation, put a hand on Logan's arm.  
"I'll go, but I think I might need some help walking? Is that okay?" Logan just nodded, and they chose to continue their journey down the street, towards the mansion and whatever was to happen next. Logan had a sudden foreboding feeling, like a piece of ice being thrust into his heart, but the moment passed and he almost forgot he even had it.

The second that Joshua touched Logan's arm, something passed between them like a current. There was a flash, something like lightning, and the boy's face began to crumple. He let out a sob, choked it back with some effort, and his hand tightened on Logan's arm. Logan, thankfully, said nothing, but much unlike himself, did not remove the boy's hand.

Joshua could remember. The back of his neck prickled. Joshua could remember.

-

When they arrived at the mansion, they were immediately ushered to Xavier's office. They were beckoned by telepathic telegram, a common occurrence much to Logan's increasing agitation. As Logan entered the office, the boy let out a low whimper, a moan really. Logan had done his best to clean the blood off the boy's face – and his own shirt – but they still both looked like a mess. On the way there, they had seen Storm through a crowd of staring students. Relief flooded through Logan's body like a wave, she was okay, a little sluggish.. but okay. She said nothing when she caught Logan's eye, but he did not the miss the undisguised look of contempt on her face. Logan couldn't blame her, he had willingly invited the boy that he just tried to assassinate them all to the mansion: to their home. Logan's brain was having a royal battle between his heart.. It was a stupid idea, yes, but his heart, his instinct, was telling him that it was not the boy's fault. Of course, that did not dismiss the fact the boy had committed murder ... And could he remember? His reaction earlier seemed to suggest he could. But Logan, that damn heart telling it him, thought (felt) that Joshua could not remember the fine details. Could not remember the heat from his hijacked power when it seared through those people. Could not remember the smell of singed and burnt flesh.  
The two of them stood outside Xavier's office, both staring at their feet. Logan had stood against the wall, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and frowned when the boy stood almost stiflingly close to him. Joshua said nothing, but kicked the carpet idly, averting his gaze. Logan could see the trademark wound on the back of the boy's neck and felt a pang of something in his chest. There was a psychic command in his head and with a forced sigh, Logan ushered the boy inside Professor Xavier's office and closed the door behind him. He could not disguise his worry as he entered.


	4. quattuor

Victor should have known this would happen, how stupid of him to even think it should have been perfectly acceptable! Leaving the safe bubble of the X-Mansion? Daring to leave what he called home? Venturing the streets? Preposterous!! No, he should have stayed inside. Stayed in that wall less prison with his bedroom door locked and never even attempt to lead a normal life.  
Ice cream. It had all happened because of ice cream. It was a warm and sunny day, cloudless. The air was dead and heavy and he had some major cravings for some Ben & Jerries. Naturally, the X-Mansion was devoid of it so he had decided to run into town and grab some. Sure, he could've asked Nightcrawler to teleport him or anyone of the people with the "decent" powers to get it for him.. but he fancied a change. Fancied actually doing something other than lying on his ceiling and staring down at his dull, minimalist bedroom.

Now look what had happened over ice cream. Twenty minutes into his journey down town, he had been jumped by a group of Friends of Humanity bastards. It had been a week since the events at the award ceremony, Victor knew some of the details, but not many. No doubt Prof X had glazed over people's minds, made it look like a goddamn gas explosion or maybe even a meteor strike. But still... all those people dead. Other people were asking questions. The Friends of Humanity, especially. Naturally it was the X-Men's fault, naturally it was all planned and blah blah blah. Victor thought they needed to change their tune already, the whole ignorant thing? Getting a little old. He was thinking this as a large and hairy fist collided with his face. He let out a howl of rage and pain as he fell to the floor, one hand trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. Surrounding him were three large, brutish looking men. One of them reached down, grabbed Victor by his uniform neck and pulled him to his feet. A second or two passed and Victor cringed away as the man spat plainly in his face, spit and blood mingling in a ropey mess. Then they began to beat him.

Victor's mutant reptilian ability gave him some regenerative abilities, already he could feel his body beginning to knit itself back together.. but the pain, oh, God! The pain! Being beaten by three men even with a heightened healing ability was not a pleasant experience, and dimly though thick, bruised eyelids, he saw a fourth person approach.

Chocolate fudge brownie, Victor thought dimly as he was left swaying upon the wall. The three men were turning around and walking towards the fourth, leaving Victor alone with his bruises. The ridiculous thing? He could have taken them, he could have fucking taken them all. His right arm? Mutantly muscular, capable of crushing skulls and leaving a fine powder.  
The pros of that situation: He would have killed the bastards.

Cons of that situation: He would have killed the bastards.

Victor was in no mood to argue as the forth man walked towards him in jerky, hesitant movements. Victor closed his eyes, trying to will his superhuman body to regenerate faster as he tensed what little strength in him he had left for the next punch.  
Nothing. No punch, no kick, no beheading. Victor opened his eyes, and they seemed to have healed enough for him to make out a concerned and decidedly human face staring at him.  
"Are you alright?" The boy – who looked no older than eighteen, nineteen maybe – asked quietly, a deep frown set on his face.  
"Obviously not," Victor muttered but let the boy put a strong arm around his shoulders to steady him, he was in too much pain to put up much of a fight.

But the other three men, the Friends of Humanity, were back in Victor's face before he could react. They threw the boy that was helping Victor to the floor, one of them kicked him hard in the ribs (Victor heard a muffled grunt) whilst another suddenly had a gun in his hand, pointed at Victor's head. He found himself looking down the smooth interior of the gun barrel.

"W-Wait," He began to say, but found there was a dark haze creeping into his vision.  
"I hope you believe in God, you mutant fuck," The man with the gun said, and then he pulled the trigger. There was a hollow thud, a deafening explosion and Victor fell to the floor in a thick daze, his head spinning.  
I'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead oh my god he shot me i'm dead. His head was a whirlwind, a swirling vortex of bright fireflies of pain and confusion. He thought he was going to black out before he could realise he already had.

Victor awoke, sometime after. Flashes of what had happened going through his brain; memories like someone switching a light bulb on and off. What was he seeing? Did he fall to the floor after being shot? (oh god i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead) Or was he ... pushed? Was that right? Yes .. Yes, before the gun exploded in his face, he was pushed out the way. So maybe ...

Maybe he wasn't dying. Maybe ... Someone had saved him. He blinked from the floor, blearily, and tried to climb to his feet. How much time had passed since the gun had gone off? Hours? Or -

Something floundered towards him, a dark mass lumbering like a drowning man, Victor's eyes dimly adjusted in their haze and  
(oh my god)  
the boy that had asked him if he was alright grasped Victor's shoulders in a vice, his eyes wide and wet with blood. One flap of skin hung over his forehead like a curtain and Victor could see a grimy pink of bone where his skull was. The boy had pushed him out of the way: The boy had taken the bullet to the  
(brain!)

head instead of Victor. The boy shuddered, one eye flooding with blood. It was that red circle that Victor focused on as he fell into the darkness of unconsciousness again.

Something was touching him. Shaking him.  
"Get lost mom," Victor mumbled, "five more minutes."  
"No, now, c'mon, get up."  
"Moooooooooooom," Victor groaned, a dull ache in all of his bones and a stinging pain in his skin.  
"Listen kid, I'm not your mother, get the hell up!" And Victor felt a sharp slap across his face. He let out a cry and bolted upright, his head swimming dangerously.  
"W-What?" Victor whispered after the figure kneeling in front of him came into view. "Y.. You?"

The person in front of him was the one that had saved him, sans open skull flap and rivers of blood running down his face. Oh, the blood was there alright, but it was now a mottled brown, dry and crusty.  
"Are you okay?" The boy asked, reaching out a hand to touch the boy's swollen face but hesitated at the last minute, a grimace on his face.  
"Am I okay?!" Victor blurted, his eyebrows raised. "You just... you just DIED!"  
It was the boy's turn to furrow his brow. "Died? What.. what are you talking about?"

"You don't remember?" Victor asked ruefully, and then allowed the other to pull him to his feet, he swayed... almost fell but managed to stay upright. "You.. You saved me, earlier."  
"Saved you from what?" And then he removed his arm from Victor's shoulders, watching him steadily, the grimace a ghost on his face.  
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Victor interrupted, his reptilian face now twisted in to a scowl. "You got a problem with this?" He gestured a hand to himself, suddenly painful aware of the spiked carapace on his head, the scales on his bare elbows, his neck.  
It took the boy a few moments to answer, and he opened his mouth but Victor shook his head. "Yeah, I got your answer, never mind." He turned away from the boy, went to walk away and felt immediately nauseous, his head pulsing. He placed a hand on the wall beside him, steadying himself, before trying again. This time, the boy grabbed his arm and began half dragging him, half helping him down the alley way.  
"I don't know your help," Victor growled but made no move to push him away.  
"Previous incidents dictate otherwise," the boy replied. Victor stopped them both to peer at him.

"I thought you couldn't remember?"

The boy paled visibly, his own face now carrying a green tinge. "I-It just came to me when.... when I touched your arm." It was Victor's turn to steady the boy as he lurched, looking pained and ill now.  
"What's your name?"

The boy's eyes refocused on Victor. "My name? Joseph.. Joe Dearborne."  
"Well Joe Dearborne, it's nice to meet you," Victor said and forced a smile. "Would you like me to take you somewhere safe? I can imagine you've er, got a lot of questions."

Joe looked green and confused still. "About?"  
"You being a mutant," Victor and led the boy away without another word. He didn't catch the look of frank disgust on Joe's face, a look of resolute horror and awful realisation.


End file.
